


The Face of God

by terma_archivist



Category: Once a Thief (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Het Sex, Multi, Oral Sex, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-01-01
Updated: 2002-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:15:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26535679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terma_archivist/pseuds/terma_archivist
Summary: Set pre-Li Ann and Mac. After a successful mission the Director takes Vic to her sex club for a special reward.
Relationships: The Director/Victor Mansfield/Original Female Character(s)
Collections: TER/MA





	The Face of God

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alicettlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [TER/MA](https://fanlore.org/wiki/TER/MA) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2019. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [the TER/MA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/terma/profile).  
> WARNING: THIS STORY HAS EXPLICIT DEPICTIONS OF HET SEX. IT INCLUDES SCENES OF F/M ORAL SEX AND F/M INTERCOURSE. THERE ARE ALSO SCENES OF F/F SEXUAL ACTIVITY. THIS STORY CONTAINS SCENES OF BONDAGE. RATING: X, for explicit sexual scenes involving a man and two women. THANKS: To Nicole for Beta.

  
**The Face of God  
by LeFey**

  


  
_"You wanted to punish me, like always." Victor stripped off the tailored linen shirt. There was no real reason to pretend modesty around The Director. She had seen him naked, dressed in leather and studs, and even on all fours gleaming in gold body paint and a bejeweled dog collar. She had initiated him into more than just the Agency when he'd first arrived. She'd opened the door to a world of kinkiness that he was ashamed to admit he found exhilarating._ Excerpt from _Section Six_

  
She had that look again. Victor's heart raced a little as the Director moved slowly with a feline grace around the conference room table toward him. He swallowed and hoped it didn't sound as loud as it did in his own ears. He thought she was pleased, she had said she was pleased. But then the Director rarely said what she meant. Yet the look was undeniably there. The faint, arrogant smile that said she had won. Or rather that he had won for her. She still hadn't reached where he sat at the middle of the table. A step or two, then she performed the practiced pause and gave him an appraising look, as if she were trying to decide what to do next. The anticipation was horrible and wonderful and he had come to learn it was one of the parts he liked best about the undeclared game she played with him.

He had deliberately left a space between himself and the table as he summarized his latest case for her. She moved into that void now, resting her toned dancer's rear on the table and sliding along its shiny surface. She made a show of squeezing past his legs as he looked up at her and gave no ground.

She perched on the edge of the table in that regal yet taunting way that made him want to both flee and wrestle her to the ground. The ankle length, tight, black skirt, that she wore unbuttoned to mid-thigh, fell away from her long perfect legs as she crossed one over the other. The act was performed quite modestly, but the resulting sculpture of parallels, thighs, legs, high arched feet in stiletto heels, was as provocative as he knew she meant it to be.

The Director ran a hand down her leg, over the shimmering darkness of her sheer black stockings. She gazed past him as if she were trying to decide what to say. She slipped a finger into the sling-back of one black leather pump. The finger traced lightly over the back of her heel, along the side of her foot and settled into a rhythm near her arch as she continued to think.

Vic could barely breathe, let alone think. He could imagine how that finger felt on her skin as she gave herself shivery touches of pleasure. It wasn't supposed to be a deliberate act, and Vic knew he wasn't supposed to notice. After three years as her operative he knew his Director and knew that she did nothing without thinking. He was certain that her reason for this display was to drive him into horny insanity.

"You've made me look very good, Victor."

"I know you do. I did. I mean..."

She raised her hand to silence him.

"This was a very difficult assignment, and a few terribly misinformed colleagues thought I couldn't pull it off." She straightened and braced herself on the table with a hand on either side by her hips. "Well, they underestimated me."

"And me."

"What?" She wrinkled her nose at the interruption. "Victor, please. They barely know that you exist. I'm talking on a Director-o-Director level."

"I'm the one who did all the work." He sounded a little whiny, even to himself. He slapped a hand against his chest, hoping the bravado might cover his neediness.

She leaned toward him and almost smiled. Her scent encompassed him, rich, dark and distracting. She had told him once what it was called. He only remembered that it was named after a precious stone. As it played at his senses he imagined strange looking Parisian perfumers grinding glittering jewels in crystal mortars using creamy jade pestles. Each tiny diamond, ruby, topaz and emerald giving off a different fragrance that combined to form the heady perfume that adorned the Director. 

"I'm the one who chose you. Choosing the right operative is the biggest part of the job. So, once again all the credit goes to me for having devised the plan that resolved this case. And you did all the work?" She rolled her eyes as she leaned away from him. 

"You could give me some credit." Irritation prickled up his neck despite the seductive hiss of silk against silk as she re-crossed her legs in front of him. 

"Do you want credit or a reward?" 

He stared at her for a long moment. It was clear the choice was his. He could grouse about being treated like her lackey, or he could fall headfirst into that mysterious, kinky, rabbit hole that was her idea of sex.

"You're wasting my time, Victor." 

She started to rise, but he grabbed her knees. "Reward." 

The Director hesitated and nearly frowned. "The next time you can't make up your mind I'll find someone who can."

"I want a reward." He squeezed her knees, and then his hands pushed up her thighs. "I want a special reward."

"Hand's on the chair," she ordered.

He moved immediately and rested his hands on the arms of the high-backed leather chair. His fingers flexed impatiently on the rounded ends of the armrest. 

"Reward." He whispered the one word and smiled up at her.

"What do we say?" She arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him.

"I want a reward, please." He pulled a slight note of sweet pleading from the last word, and was blessed with the hint of a smile. 

"All right, Victor. You know the ground rules." She reached around behind her and snapped open her briefcase. As she stretched a garter was revealed along with the lacey top of one dark stocking. 

Vic dug his fingers into the cold leather arm of the chair wishing they were on that warm shiny silk that sheathed her legs.

"If you displease me in any way you are dismissed." She turned back to him and dangled a black, padded, bandana style blindfold in front of him. "Do you agree to these terms?"

"Yes," He extended his hand for the blindfold, but she jerked it out of reach.

"Down, boy," she chided. "Is this the reward you want?"

He reluctantly settled back into the chair. He knew he was getting ahead of the game, and forgetting the formalities. The Director hated that. He had to remind himself to play by her rules. He knew that the more pleased she was with him the more pleasure she'd give. And she had said it earlier. She had already said that she was _very_ pleased with him. Once more, his fingers dug into the soft leather of the chair.

"Yes." The word came out fainter than he had intended. His throat was dry and tight with anticipation. He swallowed, then looked up at her through a fringe of dark lashes. Once, when he'd done this with her she'd actually taken a deep breath. This time she sat stoically waiting for the rest of his answer, as she dangled the blindfold just out of reach.

"This is exactly the reward that I want. That I need. Please?"

She eased herself off her perch on the table and stepped behind him.

He sat stiffly waiting for the touch of the fabric, the touch of her hands as she secured the blindfold and the delicious shivers it sent up his spine. The glittering scent of her perfume teased at his senses as he waited for her to act. He exhaled, realizing he was holding his breath while she stood silently behind him.

"What are you willing to give up for this reward?"

He jumped at the unexpected sound of her voice, despite the soft, seductive tone she used.

"Anything," he said not moving, still sitting as still as a statue waiting for her touch. "Everything."

"What's the one thing I want?" She leaned close, the words whispered in his ear, her breath kissing him like butterfly wings against his skin.

He knew the answer. He knew it from the other rare rewards she had gifted upon him. 

"Control." The word came slow and sweet from his lips.

"Who is in control, Victor?"

"You are." The blindfold glided down over his eyes and was jerked tight.

* * *

Victor was hard as she lead him, still blindfolded, from the limousine into her private sex club. She hadn't touched him on the ride over, or even sat near him in the vastness of the land yacht's back seat. She didn't have to. She had a gift for teasing him. And it was a tease in the most frustrating sense of the word. He grew and tingled with just the sound of her voice, and knew that nothing could come of it, nothing for hours. She talked nonchalantly about other times like this. A remark about remember that tall blonde, what was her name, was followed by a long silence that left him victim to his erotic memories of that tall blonde. Nothing she said was ever overtly provocative, but was always just the key to unlock a flood of maddening arousal.

Two fingers hooked in his belt and tugged him through the street level doors, then on toward the elevator that lead to the club. As the doors hissed open the sounds and smells of people mingling greeted him. He felt the bass of the music in his feet as well as hearing it. The steady, hypnotic pounding accompanied them as they walked into the club. The Director's perfume mixed with the scent of clove cigarette smoke and other things not so legal. The sound of ice rattling in glasses and the soft thud of bottles being lowered to rest on wood accompanied them as they moved past the bar.

Her fingers pushed back into his stomach and Victor stopped at the resistance. Instantly, he felt appreciative hands stroke up his back and over his shoulders. 

"Finally! You brought him back."

Victor recognized the deep male voice as Anton the club manager. He didn't like the idea of being touched in this way by another man, but if the Director didn't object he knew he couldn't.

"But not for you."

The hands left his body, or by the tone in the Director's voice were removed from his body. 

"I'm not the only one," Anton said, a defensive note ringing in his voice. "He's on everyone's wish list."

"I'll give you all pencils and you can cross him off." Her fingers went into his belt again and the Director began to walk. "I'm assuming that my room is ready." 

"Just as you ordered."

"Fine. Give me five minutes and then send them in."

Victor followed the click of her high heels across what he knew to be the highly polished hardwood floors of the club. An occasional overheard moan, groan or laugh made his cock jump as he imagined what act provoked the sound. Then he could only think of what sounds would come from him in the next hours, what reactions he might pull from the Director or whomever else she invited to play with him.

He heard the metallic snick as her key threw the lock to the room. He thought he heard music, a gentle chiming as the door was opened. She had orchestrated their last scene with strange, vaguely religious music accented with voices that sounded like angel's crying. The scent of melting candle wax and the exotic sweet odor of smoldering frankincense kissed his nose as he entered the room. The first time she'd brought him to this room he'd told her that it smelled like church. She'd brushed her fingers against his cheek and whispered, "I knew you'd like this, my little altar boy." The games had changed with each reward, but the scent remained the same.

"Sit," she told him and he lowered himself into the chair she had backed him against. He recognized the feel of the polished wood and ornately carved arms. She had told him the style was called Renaissance revival. That meant nothing to him, but he had told her that it looked like a throne. She had shrugged and replied, "Sometimes you'll be the fool, Victor, and sometimes you'll be the King."

She untied the blindfold and let it fall away. The room was aglow with candles, long, thick white tapers in multi-tiered racks and solitary gold stands. The smoked mirrors that covered the walls reflected muted, infinite diminishing images of the radiant illumination. Victor blinked and rubbed his eyes trying to adjust to the sudden intrusion of light. The room was familiar, but arranged differently than it had been the last time he was here. A narrow table, in the same intricately carved style as the chair, sat against the wall by the door. A silver tray rested there on a drape of black fabric. A large gilded chest sat along side. Usually the table held several trays lined with _toys_ for the Director to use as she tormented him to orgasm. His cock jumped at the memories. 

There were also two other chairs in the room done in the same style as the one he was sitting in. Then, as his eyes grew accustomed to the buttery light he saw it. A large X deeply padded in black leather. Supported by a heavy-duty iron base, the apparatus was tilted horizontally until it sat only a few feet off the ground. Sturdy leather straps with shiny metal buckles hung from its members like ribbons off an opened present. The sight sent a rush through him. She'd never used that sort of thing with him before. He wasn't even sure how she _would_ use it, but his heart was thumping with an extra beat at the prospect that she might. 

The director came toward him. She reached out her hand and threaded her fingers through his hair. She idly arranged the strands that had been flattened by the blindfold.

"You look handsome tonight, Victor."

She rarely paid him compliments. As a result he couldn't stop an embarrassed laugh. "Thank you." 

"I like it when you turn heads. Everyone marvels at you. That's why I don't bring you here very often. I don't want them to get used to you."

"You sure you've got the right guy?" Another self-conscious laugh escaped. 

She leaned close to him, locking him in her gaze. "Oh, I've got the right guy. You just have the wrong idea about yourself." She stood up quickly and walked toward the door. "But that's just part of your charm." She stopped, her hand resting on the heavy wooden door's ornate gold doorknob.

"You are allowed to make one choice tonight." She opened the door and several beautiful women walked silently into the room. All were clad in thongs, some lacey and dark, others a tight triangle of solid, bright color. Some were nude except for the panties. One wore a short-cropped pink T-shirt that revealed her dusky nipples with every other step. Another sported a small, elaborately embroidered, open vest that rode high on the swell of her ample breasts.

The sight of all of them made Vic's breath catch in his throat. He counted quickly and there were eight: blonde, brunette, black, white, and Asian. The Director had gathered quite a variety. This must be the choice she was going to allow him to make. He could choose one of these beautiful women instead of hoping against hope that one might choose him. He struggled to stop the stupid, dazed smile he felt coming on.

"He's gorgeous."

"The rest of you might as well leave. He's mine."

"I see why everybody wants him."

"Settle ladies," the Director instructed, and shut the door behind them. "Victor, stand up."

He practically popped out of the chair, but took a step back when the Director snapped her fingers and pointed at him. "Wait," was all she had to say.

He knew that this whole night was going to be about waiting. Making him wait as only the Director could, waiting until he thought he'd go insane. A shiver of delight ran through him at the prospect.

The Director walked to one of the two chairs set apart from where Vic stood. "When I allow you contact with him," she told the women, "you may do anything you think will win his attention, but do not undress him. That's the prize for our winner."

"Victor, are you ready? Victor!"

"What?" He'd heard her voice, but for the life of him not a word made sense as he tried to look at these beautiful half naked women who all smiled back at him. This was every guy's dream, and now that it was happening to him heat crept up his face. He felt like a shy little kid who needed to hide behind his mother's skirts. He glanced over at the Director who was sitting demurely on one of the two chairs. His discomfort wasn't lost on her. It was all part of _her,_ reward at his expense.

A bemused smile played on her lips. "I don't think you'll ever be ready, Victor," the Director told him. "Go on girls, but don't scare him too badly."

They all converged on him at once, trying to bump each other out of the way to gain purchase of him. Their hands touched, and teased, squeezed and caressed. One kissed him while another whispered lurid propositions in his ear, sometimes one woman at each ear. He was lost in a sea of soft lips and warm fingers. He became comfortable with his hands being pressed against the soft curve of a breast, his palm tickled by the nub of a raised nipple. Then he grew bold and he sought out the warm flesh instead of being lead to it. He stroked firm thighs that captured his hand between them. His tongue found its companion in each sweet mouth that covered his. He rubbed himself against the firm pout of bellies and the swell of buttocks until he wished it would never end. Finally, he realized that despite each thing he did or had done to him he returned to the same woman to see how those acts felt with her. 

"Everyone leave." The Director's voice cut through the murmur of the foreplay. A disappointed groan went up. "Jing can stay." 

"Yes!" The beautiful Eur-Asian woman whispered, still wrapped in Victor's arms. She pushed him back until he was forced to sit in the carved chair. She perched on the arm, and smiled down at him while the other women filed out.

Victor looked up into her dark eyes and pleased expression. Her thick black hair was pulled back and secured in two large pigtails that fell to mid back. She wore a long sleeved black transparent top that fit like a second skin and felt silky to the touch. The cloth made beautiful shifting, iridescent shadows that played over her golden skin.

"This is nice," he told her as he realized she was watching his fingers trace over the side of her breast.

"It increases sensitivity." The last word was a breathy whisper as he circled her nipple with just one fingertip.

She laughed and shivered as she captured his hand and pushed it away. "You should ask the Mistress to give you one of these shirts. I want to make you feel like that."

A bolt of arousal left him speechless. He wanted that too. He wanted to touch her everywhere and feel the sensation mirrored back on his own body. He could imagine the two of them kneeling in the flickering light of the room. Both clad in the fine dark see-through mesh of these shirts exploring each other's secret places. He would know exactly how each touch of his fingers felt to her as she traced the same torment over his fevered skin.

"Don't just stare at her Victor." The Director slapped the back of his head with her open palm.

He jerked at the blow and scowled at her while he rubbed the back of his head. "I wasn't staring! Okay?"

"Whatever." She waved a hand dismissively at him. "I'm going to take care of some club business. I'll be back in exactly thirty minutes." She pointed at Jing. "Prepare him in the manner I instructed."

Jing turned to Vic and shot him a quick, mischievous smile before she turned back to the Director. "Yes, Mistress."

The Director folded her arms and looked Vic up and down. "Stop acting like you've never seen a woman before, Victor."

Before he could answer she turned and walked out of the room.

Jing looked at the door long after she'd left then sighed. "She's so fucking sexy. Isn't she?" She turned and gave Vic a longing smile.

His head still smarted from the slap the Director had delivered. "Yeah, I guess that's one way to describe her."

Jing's slender fingers went to the front of his shirt and pulled him up as she stood herself. She started to unbutton his shirt. 

Victor clasped her hands and stopped her. "I can undress myself. You don't have to do that."

"I know I don't, but I want to. You heard her. It's part of my prize." She worked her hands from between his and continued to undo the buttons.

He watched her as she slowly slid the buttons through the denim shirt's stitched holes. She smiled slightly, savoring each new revelation of his skin. She was beautiful, he thought. Her features were exotic yet sweet. Now, that he studied her Vic could see that she was older than he'd first thought, maybe even his own age. The long pigtails that shone like silky ebony in the candlelight were what cinched the _girl_ look. He took hold of one and wrapped his hand in the thick tresses.

"Do you always wear your hair like this?"

She laughed, but her gaze never left his body as she opened his pants. "The mistress said you liked women who were approachable, safe, and even a little fragile. I'm none of those things so I tried the school girl look."

"She... she talked to you about me?" Vic let the sheaf of hair fall away and grabbed her hands.

"She e-mailed some of us." Her tone was matter-of-fact, but tinged with annoyance. She tried to gently move her hands from his, but he tightened his grip.

"She messaged you about me? What for? What did she say?" His face burned with the fear that e-mails cataloguing his sexual perversions, both imagined and real were now floating free on the Internet. At some moment when he and the Director went to war over an assignment he wanted to refuse she would swivel the screen of her laptop toward him and prop one of those red claws of hers over the keyboard. _"With one keystroke, Victor, I send a message to everyone you've ever wanted to respect you, telling each person the truth about what a filthy boy you really are. I'll start with a cross section of nuns who taught you, both grade and high school, add a couple of senior police officials you always wanted to impress, then I'll spice it up with a few woman you were never good enough for, and finally end... with... your **mother.** "_

"It's nothing to get bent about." Jing looked up at him and tilted her head. Vic felt like she had read his mind as her look tried to coax some calm from him. "The Mistress said she was bringing _the one._ That's what everyone here calls you." Her smile told of the excitement that bringing _the one_ could create. "She said you would be here tonight because she was giving you a special reward, and she would need some assistance. She called you a Prince... ." 

"A Prince?" Vic interrupted. "She said that?"

"You're not pleased with that description?" Her brow creased with worry.

"Let's just say that's not what she usually calls me." He remembered her latest favorite was _'My remedial wonder.'_

Jing leaned close and whispered, "I think she didn't want to scare us off with too much praise."

Vic nodded as if he agreed. He wasn't sure what else to do. She had his pants open; this wasn't exactly the time to tell her that _the one_ was actually just a stammering dork.

"I see your point."

"Besides," she smiled slyly, "the Mistress said that you would only respond to a certain type of woman, and that was intimidating enough."

Vic let out a long held breath. "Obviously, you're that type of woman."

"Not really." She spread her fingers inside his grasp and he opened his hands. Jing returned to the job of undressing him. "But you're worth the trouble of pretending that I am." She pushed his shirt off, running her hands down his back sending shivers up his spine as the garment fell away. 

A soft laugh told that she was gratified by his reaction. Vic toed off his shoes and socks and she picked them up and set them at the base of the chair that now served as a hanger for his discarded shirt. She returned to him and gently tugged at his pants and shorts, kneeling as she drew them down. He stepped out of them. She carefully folded the garment as she stared up at him. Vic wanted to look away yet couldn't break from her gaze. His cock grew harder as he took in the sight of it only inches from the sensuous bow of her dusky lips. He jerked involuntarily as her sultry exhaled breath wafted against his pubes. He willed her to take him in her warm soft mouth, cup his balls in her delicate hands, but was too lost in the anticipation that palpated between them to break the spell with words. 

She stood suddenly, and Vic bent to kiss her as she rose. She hesitated almost long enough to make contact, but then turned her face away. Was she being coy, or had he misread the moment? He could never tell. All he knew for certain was that women were an unsolvable puzzle to him. "You don't want to?" he whispered.

She glanced up at him, and took a step back. "More than anything, but I have to prepare you for the Mistress." She shrugged out of his embrace and deposited the pants and shorts on the seat of the chair. "The clock is ticking," she added as she walked toward the table near the door.

Vic glanced at the elaborate X-shaped bondage device. He tried to remember what this was called, what he'd learned during that dirty yet seductive time he had spent in vice. When he went undercover the Dom at the club he infiltrated had pointed it out to him. She'd called it a cross of some kind. _Saint Andrew's Cross,_ the name popped into his head along with her answer when he asked if it was going to be part of their play. She'd given him a withering glance before she said, _"Not for you newbie. Maybe, when you grow up and become a proper slave."_

He wilted at the idea that the Director thought him slave enough for this contraption. He was suddenly self-conscious about his nakedness, about being alone in a dungeon with a nearly naked woman who wanted to _prepare_ him for the most predatory female he'd ever met. His hands formed a barrier in front of his now limp cock.

"Ah... ?"

"Jing." She finished for him. "My name is Jing." She turned; taking bottles and vials out of the ornate chest that rested on the table, and smiled prettily at him. "Well, at least my name is Jing in this place." She went back to her unpacking.

"Jing, that's pretty." He complimented her absently as he tried to get the right mix of words that would get him an answer without ending any chance of his being rewarded.

"Thank you." She turned and shot him another sweet smile. 

He looked past her and saw the jars and vials lined up neatly on a silver tray. What lay next to the collection sent a jolt of fearful pleasure through him. Setting beside them, like a silent threat, were paintbrushes in several sizes. Large, stiff and pointed these were Japanese calligraphy brushes. He recognized them from an incredible night spent in the dungeon of the club that had been his vice assignment. A handsome, young Asian man had joined the Dom and tormented him beyond sanity with brushes like those. The Dom had given a running instructional commentary knowing full well that the taunting knowledge of what was being done to him and the torturer's intent was as maddening as any touch. By the time they had allowed him to come there was not an inch of his skin, or an orifice on his body that had not suffered the tickling kiss of the stiff but tantalizing bristles.

"What do you mean you have to prepare me for the Dir... ah the Mistress?" The words poured out at the sight of the brushes and their potential to break his will. "What exactly?"

"She said that you had an animal side that she was anxious to see," Jing told him, but didn't turn around as she continued to ready things on the tray. 

"Animal?" The question was barely whispered as he pictured himself strapped to the cross and harassed until he howled.

"In the message she sent the Mistress said you have a feral grace. She thinks you're powerful like a jungle animal, and hard to tame." She turned suddenly and laughed. Her hand came up and she fanned herself. "That image made for a very interesting night." She laughed again. "Have to thank you." She turned back to the tray of bottles and brushes. "I'll use that baby for the rest of my life. Just a few thoughts of you on the prowl and it's a guaranteed O."

"You're welcome, I guess." He still wasn't clear about what was going on. "So what is she going to do?" He had the sick feeling that he might end up jumping through a fiery hoop while the Director had a whip in one had and a chair in the other.

Jing shrugged. "I have no idea what the Mistress is up to. I only know what she wants me to do."

"Which is?"

"She wants to see the wildness you hide. She wants me to show her how fierce her pretty pet can be." Jing turned, the etched, silver tray held in both hands, the brushes pointing out.

"What are you going to do with those brushes?" Muted panic accented his words.

"Transform you."

"No." Vic raised a hand away from his groin, and held it out to stop her.

Her gaze went immediately to his soft cock. "What happened!" Her tone was concerned and disappointed.

"Nothing." He looked down at himself and felt the heat rise in his face.

"Well I can see that."

"Never mind that. You're not using those brushes on me." Vic pointed a warning finger at her as his other hand went to cover his cock again.

"Oh." Her expression changed as she drew out the word. "Somebody gave you a lesson, huh?" She gathered the brushes up and deposited them back on the table. "Not a problem. I can use my fingers."

Both hands came up, ready to fend her off. "This isn't working out," Vic told her. "I don't know what you've got in mind or what kind of hell the Dir... ah ... she intends for me, but I really don't think this is going to happen."

Jing put the tray back on the table and stared at him in disbelief. "Take a breath! I'm just going to paint you."

"Paint? Me? Huh?"

"Just paint, that's all." She approached him slowly her voice low and head cocked to one side, as if he were a skittish dog. "The mistress wants the animal inside you to show on the outside." She was next to him now and her hand rose steadily. "I'm a painter. She likes my work. She only selected artists for you to choose from." Her open palm came to rest on his chest.

Vic jumped slightly at the gentle, but unexpected touch. He had been lost in the depth of her wide brown eyes and the calm, quiet rhythm of her voice.

"Does that bother you?" Her fingers spread over his heated skin.

"No. It's just..." But he didn't finish as her hand slid down his chest.

"Does this bother you?"

He shook his head no as her other hand came up to join in the soothing caress.

"I won't do much more than this." She continued to stroke him. "And I certainly won't do anything you don't want."

"Okay," he raised his hand, which still covered his cock and once again entwined his fingers in one of the long silky falls of her hair. He felt a surge of arousal rattle through him as she touched him. Her hands slid down his arms and she took him by the hands.

"Come over here. There's a little better light."

He went without protest to stand by a large bank of candles.

She took a step toward the table and picked up the largest of the jars and unscrewed the gilded lid. She dipped in two fingers and withdrew a gleaming dollop of thick gold body paint. She smiled up at him. "Close your eyes and relax. This should feel like a nice light massage."

He hesitated, but then caught sight of himself in the smoked mirrors that covered the walls. There was a man looking back at him who was nearly comical in his uncertainty. He had nothing to worry about. His body was strong, well muscled and at least a foot taller than the Eur-Asian beauty who wanted to touch him. He knew the reward would far outweigh the control he had to give up. He had promised to give control away tonight. The Director had asked, and he had answered more than once that this was the reward he wanted. Still it was so hard to actually do it. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he exhaled. The last thing he saw was the pleased smile on Jing's face.

Her touch was gentle, but quick. She apologized for the initial chill of the paint. As she spread the thick cream over his skin the heat grew in his body until each new dab of the cool pomade proved refreshing. The room was warm and the intoxicating scent of the frankincense enveloped him. The music, which was so faint when he had entered, now sounded clear and strong and seemed to be an expressly written score for her to play out on his body. Fingers would streak over his buttocks with the cool thrill of the paint just as the other-worldly chimes sounded. Heavenly voices intoned a hypnotic chant as her touch repeated and repeated across his chest. 

He heard her open other jars, shuffle things about on the table, but he fought the urge to open his eyes and see the work in progress that she had made of him. 

Her hands stroked him everywhere, but instead of the torment he'd feared it was as pleasant as she'd promised. She laid down sketchy touches on his face, leaving a tingle in her wake that lasted long after she had moved on. She dabbed at his neck, arms and legs. There was only one place she seemed to avoid, and that place was now rigid with a need to be touched. He nearly jumped when her fingers carded through his pubic hair.

"Did I hurt you?" The concern rang in her tone.

"Ah... I... Ah..." he stammered, embarrassed by his own lust. "No," he finally managed, still keeping his eyes closed. "But can you do something about this?" He minimally thrust his hips to indicate what he was talking about.

The laugh that came back was almost a match for the crystal like chimes in the background music.

"Don't tempt me," Jing told him, her voice coming from behind him now. "The Mistress would have my head if I took you by myself."

He tensed his legs, nearly locking his knees. _Took you by myself._ The words exploded down his nerves. She was going to take him, and not alone. The Director didn't play well with others. In their past encounters she played spectacularly with the women she allowed to share him. As Jing's fingers busied themselves at the small of his back he steeled himself against the knowledge that release would be a long time coming, but it would come from both of them.

Now, her caress came sporadically. He could tell she was touching him up. There would be long periods when there was no contact. He could picture her standing back and appraising what she had done. She would give a disgruntled _'Hmm?'_ before she dabbed at his shoulder. Then the next smear or cool tap would be applied to an entirely different body part. Finally she touched the tip of his nose.

"Take a deep breath and hold it."

He did as he was told and a fine mist floated over his body, sending a chilled shiver through him.

"Too cold," Jing asked and stopped the spray at his face.

"No." The shiver left him tingling, and his body quickly heated with anticipation. "Just unexpected," he offered as an explanation.

"Sorry, but I need to do this in order to set the paint." 

Vic nodded his agreement and the spray continued down his chest. He recognized the nutty, sweet scent of witch hazel. When he was a rookie on street patrol he had busted a mime for not having a performance permit. He'd felt so badly about it that he hung around after shift to see if she made bail. He'd had a typically brief, but tumultuous affair with her. She'd used the same spirit to set the white make-up that turned her from sultry to asexual. 

Jing continued to spray him, lifting his arms, circling behind him, until every inch of skin felt the cool mist. 

"I don't want you to smear later when things get hot."

She said it matter-of-factly like a workman talking about a warranty. Vic felt his cock jump regardless as the image of what later would bring danced in his brain. 

"You can open your eyes now."

He opened them slowly, as a sudden fear shot through him. He was reluctant, now, to see the finished product. What if she wasn't much of an artist at all, but only the Director's preferred playmate. Maybe he would look like a fool because she could do no better than a child with finger-paints. Perhaps, she hadn't turned him into the animal that lurked within. He liked the idea that the Director thought him fierce and wild. He didn't want to open his eyes only to find that Jing had turned him into the sad clown that he feared he really was.

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes completely.

The image in the smoke-mirrored wall was not immediately recognizable. The edges seemed blurred a mottled camouflage of softened margins that defied definition. Then it became clear where he started and the buttery candlelight with its rich velvet shadows ended. Jing was indeed an artist. He had become her canvas. His body was resplendent with golden lines and slashes that were dotted with islands of cocoa and bronze. Echoes of dark green accented stripes of smoky orange and small dashes of tan. He wasn't an identifiable animal, but some astonishing beast that prowled in a dappled fantasy jungle undetectable in his stippled pelt.

He didn't say anything, but silently studied his reflection. Jing had even shot streaks of color through his hair, raising spikes of gold and green in his own dark tones. The only spot not transformed into the body of this mythical beast was his nearly red cock. It stood out heavy and erect made prominent by its solid, natural dusky color. He thought of ancient peoples he'd read about in high school who had worshipped the power in this fierce member. He remembered how he and his jock buddies had stolen these books from the library rather than face the embarrassment of checking them out. They had shared pictures of stone dicks polished smooth by years of touching for luck. They had laughed together embarrassed, yet in awe that the thing between their legs, the thing they could not control, was worshipped like a god. His image tonight was nothing to laugh about. He could see in himself, for the first time, the raw power of his own sex.

"You don't like it?" Jing asked quietly and took a step away from him as she cleaned her hands on a small towel.

Vic bit his lip as he tried to think of the perfect thing to say. He wanted to be brilliant, witty and be the guy with the glib lines, the guy he had never been. He wanted to be able to put into words and share with her the incredible emotion that he felt at the sight of himself.

"Ah... um... this is just... amazing! Just totally fucking amazing." It wasn't anywhere near what he really felt, but she smiled as he stammered it out.

"One more thing." Jing reached into the chest and pulled out a small red velvet bag. "The finishing touch," she told him as she fished something out of the bag.

She held it out for him to see. It was a glittering mass of what looked like diamonds. Row upon row, they were set flush against one another in a style the Director had once told him was called pave. Jing spread the piece out across her palm and revealed the two-inch wide band of black leather the stones were set into. She raised it toward him, but he took her wrist.

"That's a necklace. I'm not wearing that."

She wrinkled her nose. "It's not a necklace." She locked him in her gaze and her voice dropped to a sexy octave. "This is a collar. This is a special collar for the Mistress' precious pet."

His cock jumped at the idea, but he shook his head no and let go of her wrist.

Jing moved closer to him and turned the collar over in her hand so that the supple black leather backing was all he could see.

"This leather is so fine and wonderful." She ran two fingers down the long soft strip.

Vic sucked in his breath. She might as well have been stroking him. His reaction wouldn't have been any stronger. Jing looked up at the sound. Mirth danced in her eyes. She knew exactly what she was doing. Vic shook his head no again.

"But look how smooth it is." She brushed the bejeweled strip across her cheek, eyes shut as she enjoyed the sensation. She looked at him as she held out the jeweled choker once more. "Leather feels so good next to your skin. It will be like soft, warm lips against your neck." She took a step toward him. "Cool at first, but then it will grow warmer as you do. It will be there so you can gauge how hot things are getting." She cocked her head to one side. "It's part of your reward. Don't you want it? The Mistress will be very disappointed. She picked it out especially for you."

The reward. The Director was making him pay for this one. What was next, a gold ring through his nose? Vic shook off the image before the Director somehow sensed it and made it happen. She wanted control. That was the price of this reward. He looked at the collar suspended between Jing's outstretched hands. There was no ring, nothing to hook to a leash.

"Hmmm?" She prompted in a soft coo that went right to his groin.

"What will you do for me?" Vic asked, suddenly bold as blood and desire pounded in his cock.

"Anything," she purred and moved closer. "Everything." She reached up to secure the collar. The seductive pout of her lips pursed into a frown. "You're too tall. I can't reach."

Without being instructed Vic knelt in front of her. Jing's breasts were at eye level for him now. He looked from one circular, dark nipple to the other. The transparent skintight shirt she wore gave a jewel-like iridescence to her breasts as she reached toward him. She slipped the choker around his throat and secured it. Vic breathed in her scent as she leaned against him. She was warm and fragrant with roses and something that reminded him of the woods after a cleansing rain. He thought about them making love in soft green grass under the shade of old trees. 

Vic grabbed her as she started to back away. His hands rushed up her bare legs, making her shiver.

"You said you'd do anything."

She laughed as her fingers threaded through the hair at the back of his head. "Anything the Mistress will allow." Her grip tightened and she gave his head a quick shake.

"You said anything, everything." He looked up at her as she held his head, and he was certain she wanted to give him whatever he needed.

She was still, her face serious as she looked at him. Finally, she let out a breath that was almost a sigh. "My God, you are _the one._ "

Vic smiled up at her. The undisguised adoration in her gaze was a heady elixir. He felt drunk on the praise, high from her attention and reckless as a horny teenager.

He leaned toward her, despite the tension on his hair as she still secured his head in her hands. He slowly brought his mouth to hover just above her navel. He didn't touch her but felt the heat of his breath bounce back to him from her skin. His tongue darted out and left a shiny circle on the shimmering fabric that sheathed her skin. Jing's fingers flexed against his scalp. He went lower, nearly, but not touching the hollow of first one hip and then the other. He glanced up and her eyes were closed. She looked like a Saint in ecstasy. His overheated libido churned up Images of St Teresa, the little flower, St Catherine of Siena, and St. John of the Cross lost in rapture as God touched them. All the depictions from Lives of the Saints that he had found disturbingly erotic as a boy flooded his mind. Now he was the source of the bliss, and the look on Jing's face was just as exciting as the illustrations of swooning, mystic nuns.

He ran his tongue along the top of the tiny black triangle that covered her pubes. A sound escaped from her, a noise between a moan and a laugh. Vic repeated the titillation with the same results, but this time her hands left his head and anchored on his shoulders. He felt her tense, but he didn't touch her again only brought his mouth near enough for her fingers to twitch on his shoulders as his breath played over the area his tongue had moistened.

He could smell her now. That salty, rich scent of arousal wafted up to him. He had to see the source. He wanted to lick the tang of her from his lips after he'd kissed that secret place. He'd rarely gone this far before. Women were shy or bored with him, and he was not often brave enough to press the matter. But tonight he was _the one._ He wanted to prove that he deserved the title.

He bit into the edge of the black fabric and she responded with a whimper. He pulled with his teeth and she arched her back. He slid the tiny thong, held fast between his teeth, down her legs and she moaned as his lips streaked along one of her legs. He stopped at her knees, and took the panties off with his hands.

As Jing stepped out of the thong Vic pushed her legs apart and she braced herself, once again, on his shoulders. His fingers moved over the slick warmth between her legs. She jerked at his touch, but then moved one of her hands up to caress her breasts. Vic felt her heat intensify against his fingers, her silky liquid increased.

The thought of how she felt, how he was making her feel these things buzzed through his nerves igniting an unbearable fire in his cock. He wanted to touch himself. He wanted Jing to touch him. He wanted to be buried deep inside the source of the magic potion that coated his fingers. Most of all, though, he wanted to taste her.

The difference in their heights was awkward even with him kneeling. The best way to get where he wanted to go was to drop on to all fours and let his tongue do the work. He was adorned like a mythical beast after all, and the beast in him needed to feed.

He braced his hands on the floor by her feet and pushed his mouth into the glossy black nest between her legs. Jing gasped and staggered back a step. Vic followed shuffling forward and wrapping one arm around her butt to secure her. In a moment she had settled and his tongue found the spot he was after. The sensation thrilled him. The soft flesh, warm with wanton juice played over his tongue as he lapped at her. He wished he could look up at her and see the dazed pleasure recorded there. His access to her was precarious though. If he changed what he was doing, even to see her blissed-out expression he'd miss the mark. He decided to do nothing but torment that sensitive spot until Jing screamed and came.

Whack!

Jing yelped and jumped away from him. Vic nearly fell on his face, but managed to stay upright on his hands and knees. When he was able to look up Jing was standing a few feet away rubbing her bottom and the Director stared down at him tapping a riding crop on her open palm. At least he thought it was the Director. The woman in front of him wore the stiletto heels the Director always donned, but these were on the bottom of black leather boots that ended about three inches above her knee. Shiny black stockings came up mid-thigh and were held in place by a lacey transparent garter belt. He felt himself drip at the sight. How did she know? How did she always know what his quirks, his kinks were? And each time, like this nasty, trashy, elegant, high-priced whore garter belt she could find something different to arouse him. Her panties were nearly as small as Jing's, but again lace and nearly see-through. Then came the real show. The Director wore a tight leather corset. At least Vic thought it was leather, black and shiny it was like a second skin. Her full breasts floated above it threatening, no promising to spill out with the slightest jiggle. He wondered how she had managed to walk into the room and keep them in place. Perhaps that was why he hadn't heard her come in. She had to move so carefully to not dislodge those beautiful, firm orbs. A tickle of pre-cum bubbled up at the prospect. Or maybe he was just too distracted by the treasures between Jing's beautiful legs to hear the Director arrive. Another drop of liquid crowned his cock at the memory of what he'd done to his exotic painter. 

He looked at the corset that held the Director's _treasure,_ and saw the zipper that bisected the gleaming front of the sheath. The zipper fob was adorned with an inch long, perfect silver penis. Vic wanted to take that cock in his mouth and pull it down just as he'd pulled down Jing's panties with his teeth. He wanted to hear the Director gasp as he revealed the dusky nubs of her nipples, which were so clearly outlined by the thin supple leather. He wanted to, but knew better. This was the Director, after all. She didn't share Jing's delusion that he had any god-like qualities, and Vic was certain that she didn't want to worship at the altar of his probing tongue.

Vic followed the swell of her breasts up the long curve of her neck to the chin that jutted out below red lips drawn into a tight, disapproving line. As their eyes met he noticed it for the first time. It should have been the initial thing he saw, but the sexy Dom outfit had distracted him. The Director wore a mask, but not just any mask. This was a swoop of pave set diamonds, not unlike the collar she had chosen for him. The edge that rested along her brow was like a small tiara finished with graduated stones that met in one large pear shaped diamond above the bridge of her nose. The eyeholes were slanted, and the wings of the mask stood out at least two inches beyond her face making her look even more glamorous and remote than usual. The mask sparkled as she snapped her head to glare at Jing then turned back to Vic. The sight of her sent a shiver through him. She was an erotic executioner from the dungeons of Tiffany's and he was her next victim. His heart was racing and his breath ragged when he remembered that he was on all fours covered in gold body paint and wearing a bejeweled collar.

"Nice work," she said flatly, then raised his chin with the loop end of her riding crop while she studied him. 

"Thank you, Mistress," Jing said, as she still rubbed the growing red welt on her butt.

"Yes, the design is good," the Director said slowly as she pondered the creation before her, "but your implementation is all wrong." She swung on Jing and pointed the crop at her.

Jing took a step back. "I couldn't help it. Look at him!" She motioned frantically at Vic. "He's _the one._ He's irresistible!"

Vic started to protest, but the Director cut him off. "Victor! Silence! I really couldn't bear to hear you confirm how captivating you are." She gave a disgusted snort. "Or think you are."

"I was just going to say that it was my fault. I ... I ... initiated ... things."

The Director shrugged and rolled her eyes. "Of course you did Victor, you're a man. What a news flash. But there is someone here," she glanced toward Jing, "who was supposed to have been better trained than that."

"I'm sorry, Mistress."

"You will be." She told Jing, but didn't bother to look at her. She tapped Vic on the shoulder with the riding crop. "Now, stand up and let me look at you."

Vic stood and stretched as he did. He felt cocky for really the first time in his relationship with the Director. He was her prize tonight as well. He was irresistible and _the one,_ everybody said so. He might as well put on his own show for her.

She dragged the tip of her riding crop down his side and the unexpected tickling made him drop his arms involuntarily in mid-stretch.

"Stop showing-off Victor," she mocked. "It doesn't look good on you. Besides, I think this lily is gilded to the point of breaking." She walked slowly around him making evaluating little noises.

"Very nice," she said and cupped one cheek of his ass. Her palm played over his skin, the tips of her fingers tickling down his crack. 

He jerked at the unexpected intrusion.

"This is the part of you I like best." Her touch was suddenly gone. "Next to this very well defined chest of yours. One finger, the nail dragging unbearably under the swell of his pec, traced the outline of his muscle. 

Vic arched his neck, unable to hide his response to her teasing his hyper-aroused body. Her finger skipped over his skin and circled his nipple leaving a tingling sphere of sensation behind. Then the flat of her fingertip found the plateau of his swollen nipple. She stopped for a moment, just long enough for both of them to acknowledge what she was about to do. Vic stared into her eyes and saw the certainty there. He looked back trying to hide the memory of another reward she had given him. A time that he had stated with conviction that his nipples weren't sensitive, it didn't arouse him when they were played. This had been true until this woman; this sexual fiend had used just the tip of her finger on the tip of his nipple to bring him to the edge of a bone melting orgasm. Then she had denied him release until he asked her, in just the right words, to be allowed to come. He felt the heat rush to his face. The play between them had been frustrating, fascinating and extreme. He wanted that level of sensation again, but felt embarrassed to pit his will against the Director's sadistic skill in front of Jing.

The first stroke sent a surge of pleasure coursing down his cock. The Director smiled, as he knew she would, at the tremor she created. She played with him a moment longer each second seemed like hours as he was torn between the frustrating pleasure and his desire to stop the test. The Director stopped without his asking. Still locked in each other's gaze she smiled knowingly, and then took a step back. Her eyes dropped to look at his swollen cock.

"What have we here?" She reached out, one finger rimming his sensitive cock head. With a practiced motion she scooped up the milky fluid that oozed from his slit.

Vic felt the tingle charge up his nerves and raise gooseflesh all over his body.

The Director brought the dollop of pre-come to her lips pausing to watch Vic's reaction.

Vic felt his neck muscles tighten then twitch as he anticipated what she was about to do. Even though he fought to control it, his head trembled slightly as her finger and his fluid breached the scarlet barrier of her lips and disappeared into her mouth. She sucked at the digit, then slowly withdrew it. She licked her lips, leaving them glistening. 

"Yummy, he's almost done."

Jing let out a tiny moan that caused them both to turn and look at her.

"Take a seat, Victor," the Director instructed, her gaze still locked on Jing.

Victor backed up toward the chair, but the riding crop snapped against his thigh making him jump. 

"Not that chair." The Director extended the crop and pointed at the massive black X. "That's your throne tonight."

Vic stared silently at the device awaiting him. A mix of horror and titillation played in him keeping him immobile. He caught sight of himself in the mirrored wall. It suddenly struck him, why should he have decisions made for him by this woman. He was a potent image of male power, made more so by her fantasy of the beast she fancied. Why should he give her control? She couldn't offer a reward that matched the swell of confidence he felt at this moment as he admired himself.

"Maybe I want _you_ on that particular throne." He flashed an evil grin at the Director.

She looked at the floor for a moment before she answered. Her mouth was set in a tight line that always reminded Vic of the multitude of nuns who had told him that he was an underachiever. 

He grabbed his thick cock in one hand before she could speak. "This is _your_ reward. We come here for _you._ We come here because you want _me._ So, I decide how it's played." It felt good; it felt like the first shot of heroine into the vein of the world's first addict as the pleasure he felt with himself bolted straight to his brain. Pure, sweet, hot nirvana spread a triumphant smile on his face.

The Director raised her chin with annoyance. "I should know better than to give you your head, Victor." She snapped her fingers at Jing. "We're through here." She gave a regal wave of her hand and the two women headed for the door.

"Wait," Victor wailed. This wasn't the way it should play out. "You _want_ me." His mood crashed at the first click of her stilettos on the stone floor.

The Director stopped, her hand on the gold doorknob. Jing looked desperately from Vic to her Mistress.

"What do I want, Victor?" the Director asked without turning.

Vic was suddenly aware of the almost unbearable tension of his erection. He knew what _he_ wanted. It wasn't going to be found in his good right hand, which was going to be his only recourse if he didn't think fast.

"Obviously Victor has become a mime. I hate mimes." The Director turned the knob.

Jing grimaced at Vic, and nodded frantically toward the Director.

"Wait!" Vic called out, and the Director stopped. A tiny voice nagged at him not to give in. She wouldn't really walk, would she? The much louder sound of his blood rushing in his ears, throbbing in his cock threatened to drown out any resistance.

"There is still a question on the table," she said with all the tenacity of a hungry shark. She turned after a moment when there was no answer.

"You want control," Vic told her with a resigned sigh as he straddled the intersection of the large black X. The little voice still said stand up to her, but his "other head" had as much control of him now as the Director wanted.

She glared at him even from behind the glittering mask. "Jing, prepare him."

Jing rushed to his side and extended a hand to steady him as he mounted the padded framework, lay down on the cool leather and fit his feet into the footrests at the base of the contraption. Once he was settled she busied herself strapping him in.

The Director stepped beside them. "Not too tightly," she admonished.

Jing looked up at her. "He's very strong," she explained.

"In some ways, yes. You'll see how weak his flesh can be." She moved the strappy tip of the riding crop up the inside of his spread legs until she drew a shiver from him. "I don't want any discomfort. I want him to feel the pleasure. I want him to feel everything."

Jing stepped away when she finished and in a flash the Director drew back the crop and unleashed a stinging slap against Vic's hip.

He jumped and yelped despite himself. "You said no discomfort!" He struggled in his bonds, angry and now wishing she had actually left.

"You didn't feel any discomfort from the straps, did you?" 

She zigzagged the crop over the strap that secured his waist. The motion spilled over on every pass and tickled madly across his stomach. Vic bit his lip in a futile attempt not to laugh. Finally, a stifled giggle erupted from him and she stopped.

She leaned close to him and smiled. "There, you see? The straps are holding you quite nicely, and the only discomfort you're feeling is from me. Just as it should be." The smile vanished. "I always win, Victor. I thought by now you were smart enough to know that."

His body tingled and tensed, anticipating the next torment she might visit upon him. In a moment her nails racked over the welt she'd raised on his hip. He jerked at the burn it created.

"If you're a good boy, good things happen to you," she whispered, her breath kissing his ear. "If you show me your so-called manhood like some parading baboon..." She rolled her fingers in that familiar throwaway gesture she liked. "You can feel the results."

"You promised me a reward," he snapped, anger and arousal rising in him in equal parts.

"We had an agreement that you seem to want to ignore."

"What do you want, a man or a lap dog?" 

The Director rocked back and gave him a considered look. "Interesting choice of options, Victor, but I really don't think you want to go there."

"I..."

The Director put the strap of the crop against his lips before he could say another word.

"Have you ever worn a ball-gag?"

He looked at her warily. Was she serious or was this just another ploy to gain control? He could barely read her expression behind the glitter of stones that spanned her face. He looked closely, and her eyes gleamed hard and determined, maybe more so than usual. It took all his will not to tell her to go to hell. He knew he was on dangerous ground, but he still wanted to kick a little dirt at her before he went down. She jerked her hand up as if asking _Well_. Vic took a deep breath, and waited as long as he could before he shook his head no. Anger and embarrassment flashed an uncomfortable heat up his body. 

"So, your little playmates in the dungeons of your vice assignments liked to hear the sound of your cries? They enjoyed a certain titillation in your pleas and wails as they found just that certain spot that broke your will? Well, not me." She pointed at the ceiling. "Too much whimpering and yelping just drowns out the music, and ruins the ambience." She snapped a sharp glance at him. "As does your belligerent attitude at the moment. If I hear anything more out of you I'll take measures to make it stop."

Vic glared at her, hoping that his displeasure was apparent from behind his own mask of make-up.

"Sulking, now?" she asked and gave him an appraising glance. She raised the riding crop and pointed at his flagging erection. "Jing, this is wilting."

"Yes, mistress." Jing didn't smile, but there was an unmistakable intake of breath that could have passed for a shout of joy. She stepped between the inverted V at the bottom of the X and bent to take Vic's softened cock into her mouth.

The sensation was electrifying and made him arch upward against his restraints. His eyes closed and he turned his head from side to side as a warbled moan rattled from his throat.

"Mmmm." The Director moaned along with him. "She has incredible talent, doesn't she?"

He couldn't speak. Jing was pulling him further into her mouth. Her soft warm lips brushed his pubes as she held him down her throat. She swallowed and his legs began to tremble as the overwhelming pleasure rumbled through him. She pulled back leaving him panting, wanting the torture to continue that the rippling of her muscles had promised.

"Now, Victor, what do I want?" The Director's voice cooed over him. Jing's mouth left him for a moment and he gasped.

"What do I want?" The Director continued to ask in a soft prompting voice one would use with a child who had forgotten a lesson. Jing's mouth returned to him, but only to suck on his head and lick his shaft like he was some phallic Popsicle.

"Victor?" 

"Control." He croaked out the word. Jing cupped his balls as she continued to lap at him.

"And what is it that you are giving up tonight?"

Jing lifted his tight balls, her fingers scratching lightly up toward the base. He tensed, ready to be tickled again and forced from this erotic haze by more annoying titillation. Instead one finger probed at the base of his sac. Pleasure shot through him like a white-hot sword.

"Not yet!" The Director barked and he felt Jing jerk away from him.

"Victor?" She slapped him on the face, not a hard slap but enough to stop the sensation that threatened to tear an orgasm from his body. 

"What was that?" He could barely open his eyes as he floated in a sea of arousal. His body seemed to pulse as if he were permanently suspended in that glorious moment just before climax.

"A little trick Jing knows." The annoyance in her tone was apparent. 

Victor had heard of tricks like this. The pearl. His Dom had told him that there was a special spot just past his balls that held a tiny bump in the flesh, a pearl. When pressure was applied, at just the right time, the pleasure was incredible. If he could become a good little slave she would show him. No one ever showed him, and he had given up when he could never find the pearl himself. He realized tonight that it was certainly worth the hunt.

"Answer the question Victor. What are you going to give me?"

"Anything, everything." He said and smiled lazily up at her. "Control. Total fucking control."

"Is the reward worth it?"

Victor sighed and closed his eyes again. "It always is."

"Yet you always resist?"

He laughed and looked up at her. "This would all mean nothing if I gave in right away."

She ran her hand absently through his hair. "You scare me, Victor. I think you like all this even more than I do."

He shivered suddenly. His cock was growing chilled as Jing's saliva dried on his heated flesh.

The Director smiled. "That should keep you till the next act." She turned and looked at Jing who stood at the foot of the X. "I have some unfinished business. Someone disobeyed me."

Jing raised her hands in protest. "Nothing happened. No one came."

The Director pointed at her. "But someone opened the package early."

Jing lowered her head and was silent. 

"I was going to give him to you, but this changes everything."

Jing looked at Victor, a desperate light in her eyes. "Mistress please. Give me another chance. I'll prove myself."

"You think so?" The Director stepped beside her and cupped one of her breasts. Jing leaned toward her and offered her half-opened mouth.

Victor raised his head to watch them. Jing must be special. The Director had brought in other women, on occasion, but she had never showed any interest in them herself. Suddenly the Director snatched the woman by the hair and bent her head back kissing her fiercely. She played this way for a moment and then stepped back. Jing staggered toward her, her hands reaching for more. The Director laced her fingers through the long fingers of her companion and smiled. Jing leaned slowly forward, her lips parting as she neared. The Director stood still, but her mouth moved as well. Each woman's tongue stirred delicately from the sanctuary of her mouth. Just the tips touched, hesitant and testing. They played against each other like this for some time. Then the Director lapped along the underside of Jing's protruding tongue. Jing rolled her shoulders at the erotic attack. She twisted and stabbed at the invader with her own tongue. Soon the two of them were embroiled in a sexy fencing match. To Victor it seemed to go on forever as his cock swelled and throbbed at the sight of them. Finally, Jing broke away and fell panting against the Director.

The Director cradled her, stroking her hair. "You passed the first test, Precious. You've persuaded me to let you take the next test."

Jing stepped away from her, head lowered. "Thank you Mistress."

"We'll see if you thank me after this. Move two of the chairs together facing each other."

Jing set about doing what she was told. The Director stepped beside Vic and asked, "Did you like that little show?" She circled the length of his cock with her fingertip, slowly spiraling toward the head. "Or were you bored?" 

Vic couldn't speak. He knew that if he opened his mouth he would howl from the trail of titillation she was inflicting on him. She reached the head and he closed his eyes tight, fearing what torment she would visit on his cock's sensitive crown. He didn't have to wait long. Her fingertip feathered along the brim of the cap and he jerked involuntarily.

"I'd say, definitely not bored." 

The torment stopped. Vic opened his eyes and stopped gritting his teeth, but he was met with a sight that made his whole body tense. The Director looked down at him, her finger poised over the tip of his cock.

"Someday, Victor, we're going to have to polish this for you. Have you ever had a good, long, slow head polish? No?" she said without his answering. "You take copious amounts of lubrication and apply with," she shrugged, "what else, a polishing motion. The lubrication intensifies all sensation, yet it prevents climax. For hours." She licked her lips, leaving them glistening in the candlelight. "Oh the insanity." She pressed her finger against his piss slit and he jumped. "Maybe we'll do that later tonight, maybe not? Something for you to think about, hmm?" She smiled and turned away from him.

Vic lay back letting the air rush out of his lungs. That woman was a fiend, a demon or the devil made flesh. He wasn't certain how far her evil went. He only knew she could plant images, like being polished, that tormented him more than any touch.

"Take these off."

Victor opened his eyes in time to see Jing kneeling at the Director's feet. Her long fingers were hooked in each side of the lacey black thong as she pulled it down to the floor. The Director stepped out then stood for a long moment, her bush nearly touching the tip of Jing's nose. A thrill raced through Vic as he remembered Jing's yearning praise, _She's so fucking sexy._ It seemed he wasn't the only one being teased tonight.

"Such discipline," the Director cooed after what seemed an infinite test of Jing's will. She extended her hand and Jing took it and stood. "Now let's really put your will to the test. First we need a prize that will be worth fighting for." She turned suddenly, the jeweled mask sending out a flash of reflected candlelight. "I think Victor would make a grand prize."

"Victor?" Jing barely breathed the name.

"Victor, would you like to be our prize?" the Director threw over her shoulder.

"Yes, definitely." 

"Hear that Jing?" The Director curled a long strand of the woman's silky black hair around her hand. "Do you hear how eager he is? If you had done what you were told," her tone grew cajoling, "you would be mounted on him right now. You would feel the power of his hard stiff rod thrusting and pressing and rocking the pleasure through you."

Vic trembled at the thought of it. He wasn't sure who was more tormented by the lose Jing or himself.

The Director suddenly stepped away. "Instead you have to prove that you're worthy."

Jing stared at Vic. He could feel the longing in her eyes, almost experience the warm, tight comfort of her body sheathing his cock. He throbbed as her clever tongue darted out to nervously lick her lips. They were locked in each other's gaze until the Director stepped between them. 

"Straddle the chair."

Jing did as she was told, nimbly mounting the arms of the ornate chair, spreading herself, open and vulnerable above the seat.

"This is the game," the Director said slowly. "Erotic play, nothing off-limits. Whoever reaches climax first loses Victor." Jing moaned and dipped her head. "Oh please!" the Director snapped. "Do you want to give up now?" Jing shook her head no, and shot a furtive glance at Vic. The Director continued, "Whoever controls her needs will have them satisfied with Victor. Do you understand?" Jing nodded. "Do you agree?" 

"Yes, Mistress."

The Director swung her leg over the other chair and settled herself easily. "Then let the games begin."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth Jing reached out and pulled down the zipper allowing the Director's breasts to escape the confines of the leather. Jing wet two fingers and began to massage the dusky nipples.

The Director was concentrating her attention on the inside of Jing's legs. The chair severed as a brace while their feet on the floor kept them balance. The sensitive flesh was tight and easily teased as her fingers glided along. Jing jerked as the Director circled her fingertips under the globes of her ass increasing the sweep of skin she stroked.

Jing scooted forward and bowed her head. Her mouth went gently from one of the Director's nipples to the other, sucking, licking and nipping at the sensitive nubs.

Victor squeezed his eyes shut. The sight of the two of them, both such skilled temptresses trying to get the other one off was nearly finishing _him_ off. He could just imagine what torments from hell would be visited upon him if he lost their prize and came.

"Ummm, you're so wet." 

Vic jerked his eyes open at the honeyed taunt from Jing. She had the fingers of one hand darting in and out of the Directors auburn bush. At the same time, her other hand held a captured breast that she suckled and teased. The muscles in the Director's legs stood out like rope as she tensed against the sensations assaulting her.

She was busy as well, though. Her hands ran gingerly over the sides of Jing's breasts, a fingertip brushing a dark raised nipple then running down to tease at her navel. Vic was near to dying remembering the giggling shivery reaction she had shown him when he had done something similar to her. Now, she hid her real reaction as she tried to outlast the Director.

Vic moaned softly and tossed his head. His cock felt like it was on fire and pumped to near bursting. He looked down and regretted it. He was red with veins as blue as ink standing out. The skin looked paper thin and ready to tear. He feared if he touched it, if anyone touched it, his poor tortured cock would crumble like a butterfly's wing. He jumped at the thought. He needed so badly to get off, but if he tried he'd never get off. The instrument of his pleasure would be destroyed, and he would only be left with this hellish need that could never be satisfied. The Director's word's echoed in his mind, _Oh the insanity._

Vic looked over at the two women. The Director was gently grabbing both of Jing's breasts, rubbing them into her palms then slowly, gingerly dragging her fingernails over the surface of the small firm breasts to pinch the nipples before she repeated the action. 

Jing had a fine bead of sweat on her upper lip and her breath was coming in quick little gasps. Her own long fingers were thrusting into the Director's wetness. Jing's attention could only be increasing that delicious slipperiness as Vic watched the Director's butt clinch every few seconds.

Jing continued to tease at the Director's breasts with her acrobatic tongue. She had made glittering stone roses from the nipples. At some point, that Vic had missed, she had completely unzipped the corset and it hung like a vest. Jing left the steamy region between the Director's legs and moved her hand over the plane of her stomach. Her fingers traced over muscles that quivered at her touch. Vic could see a shiny trail where the Director's own passions streaked her. Jing played along the edge of her pubes and the Director bit her lip. Jing laughed. Vic winced. He knew what happens when you laughed at the Director.

The Director's hands fell from Jing's breasts. "Let's get this over with," she snarled. Both her hands dove between Jing's legs. Jing began to bounce as she was thrust into. Her head arched back as the other set of skilled fingers found just the right spot. Jing lurched forward, her hands scrambling to find their own mark. She pumped away at her opponent, but her tightly, shut eyes showed that she was losing the battle. She began to jerk every few seconds as the relentless pleasure increased.

The Director murmured something that Vic didn't catch. He raised up a little, straining to hear what she was saying. Then her voice grew louder as Jing's body rocked to the rhythm of the hands that plagued her.

"You can't stop it from coming," the Director said in a husky taunting voice. "You're coming," she repeated like a mental tickle. "You're coming," she purred as she teased the words across Jing's fevered libido. "You're coming."

"Ahhh!" The sound flew from Jing, ragged and hot. Her hands thrust up to brace herself on the Director's shoulders as the pleasure was forced from her. She rocked, her head falling forward, as the other woman continued to work sensation from her as she spasmed in orgasm. Sharp, high-pitched involuntary notes rose from her throat each time some new climax was jolted out of her. 

Finally, she gasped in a breath and seemed to collapse. The Director wrapped her arms around her for a moment, but then asked, "Who won?"

Jing didn't look up. Her voice was little more than a whisper. "You mistress."

"Don't tell me, tell Victor."

Jing sat up and looked at her.

"Go on," the Director instructed.

Jing turned reluctantly toward Victor. "The mistress won. I'm sorry," she added quietly.

The Director took her chin in hand and turned her face so she had to look at her. "I can only imagine how sorry you are. No, wait. I'll actually know, because I won."

"Yes, Mistress," Jing confirmed.

"You were an, almost, adequate opponent so I will allow you to assist me."

Jing brightened. "Really? Oh thank you Mistress." The Director let go of her chin and she immediately looked over to Vic and smiled.

Vic smiled back. He couldn't stop smiling. He was just waiting for the Director to notice and comment on how he was grinning like an idiot. He didn't care. The only thing that mattered now was the thing that pulsed and throbbed between his legs, the thing that radiated an incomplete pleasure through his whole body, and the thing that would receive satisfaction from both of them.

"This is done now," the Director instructed and Jing moved her chair back allowing the Director to stand and easily move away. Jing was a step behind her. The Director snapped her fingers. "Fix this." She held up one corner of the open corset. 

She stood; her gaze fixed on Victor for the moment it took Jing to step around her. He felt her eyes on his body. He had heard that phrase before and always thought it foolish. Now, he knew with certainty that it could happen. The fine hairs on his skin stood erect and telegraphed a tingle to his brain. A wave of sensation washed over him from the back of his neck to the soles of his feet as he felt an infinite number of soft knowing fingers trace arousal over his flesh while she watched him. 

She paused, not for long, but he knew it was deliberate before she had told Jing to close the corset. She had allowed him a good look. She stood defiant, daring him to look at the swell of her bare breasts, the dusky nipples and the silky triangle of pubic hair. She had never allowed him to see so much of her. She was nude. Nude, the word rumbled through him sparking images of erotic, beautiful woman giving forbidden glimpses of themselves. She was better than nude, though, and she knew it. No, she knew him, and how perfectly her appearance fit into his fantasies. The shiny black leather corset that now hung from her shoulders and cried out for a whip kept her from being nude, but made it so good. The black leather stiletto heeled boots, impossibly tight and well over her knee that made _his_ knees weak kept her from being nude, but made it better. The lacey black garter belt that rode low on her hips and stretched to snag the shiny silk stockings that hugged her thighs, kept her from being nude, but made it the best.

Vic caught his breath when Jing stepped between them and broke the Director's spell on him. He felt like he had run a race the way his body surged, heart pounding, lungs demanding more air as the anticipation made supreme demands on his nervous system.

He heard the zipper rise, like the buzz of a metallic bee. She would be here soon; they would both be here to award his prize. He nearly came! He very nearly came at the thought. He raised himself off the X as much as the restraints would allow him. The dull black leather that padded the devise peeled from his sweaty skin as he moved. Cool air teased at his wetness and sent a chill through him. A degree of control returned, but only a degree. 

_Think about baseball._ That was what he had always been told in order to cope with an intruding erection. But this wasn't some study hall hard-on. This was a serpent demon that meant to possess him. Baseball! The only thing he saw when he crushed his eyes shut now and thought of baseball was bulging packages made bigger by metal jocks to keep them caged as they strained to get out of skin tight fabric stretched to bursting. Baseball was like thinking about _Alien,_ only the cock-with-teeth wasn't going to burst out of some guy's chest, it was going to erupt from a distended groin and terrorize the universe. Vic sucked in a breath; _strained, bulging, bursting_ he shouldn't have gone there. Hockey, maybe if he thought about hockey.

"You still with us, Victor?" The Director's voice sounded beside him, husky and seductive.

He opened his eyes and nodded.

"Good," she purred. "I'd hate to think you _lost,_ " her fingers flew open mimicking an explosion, "your opportunity to be rewarded."

"You love to torture me," he growled, anger prickling over him, as it was clear she was going to make him wait even longer. 

"Hmmm?" She looked at Jing who now stood by Vic's head. "Jing, do you think I'm torturing poor Victor?"

"Oh yes, Mistress." She smiled mischievously. "And it's simply wonderful."

A shock wave, near to orgasm, rattled through Vic at the idea.

"Jing, you really must be more careful. You made him shiver. You need to know," she said in her best instructional tone, "that Victor is very susceptible to the female voice. In fact," her tenor dropped into a smoky sultry range, "I'm certain that we could talk him into coming."

Vic bolted upward, trapped by the restraints. "No! No! You promised a reward."

Jing was pushing him back down, brushing his hair with her fingertips when he settled, and cooing reassurance to him.

"There was a cost for your reward," the Director reminded him. "Have you given me what I wanted?"

"Control?" Vic gave a harsh laugh. "I'm still intact, eh?"

The Director looked down his body, the candlelight showering glinting rainbows off the jewels in her mask.

"My, my that does look uncomfortable. Admirable job." She held her hand out to Jing. "It looks like the slightest thing could set that off, and you've been exposed to so much tonight." Jing held her hand for balance while the Director swung her leg over Victor's waist. 

Vic closed his eyes and tensed as she settled on him. The heat from her body radiated into his stomach. In a moment he felt her warm silky fluid kiss his skin.

"Oh God, please!" He had never wanted to beg, never intended to let her drag this out of him, but in this universe where he dangled between unending need and unquenchable desire there was no other choice.

"Just like a man, always thinking only of himself," she said softly, as if to a wayward child. "What about me? The sight of my beautiful animal has given me this excruciating itch that I can't scratch by myself." She began to squirm slightly, pressing and rubbing her hot slick pussy against him.

Vic felt his cock stiffen. That was impossible. He was ten times harder, hotter and hornier than he had ever been in his life, than he ever imagined possible. His fevered mind saw the crown of his cock split like a chrysalis and the huge stone phallus of his adolescent fantasies grow out of the withered husk of his old shaft. It grew like a pillar of polished granite, broad and gleaming to tower over the Director as she worked herself on his abdomen.

"Will you help me?" She asked, her voice a husky whisper as she continued to grind. "Will you, my ferocious beast?"

"Yes! Yes!" He thrashed under her, tossing his head from side to side. "I'll do anything you want. Please! God!"

"Jing, the protection." The Director's voice snapped quickly back to the familiar tone of authority. She leaned over Vic, as soon as Jing turned away. She braced herself with a hand by each side of his head. "God? I'm going to make you see stars, mystical moments that Saints would be jealous about. I'm going to make you see God, and she'll look just like me." 

Vic closed his eyes against the onslaught of all she promised. He opened them quickly as he felt the powdery chill of a condom being rolled down his shaft. That was impossible. There was no condom that could cover the behemoth that pulsed between his legs now. Jing's hand circled the base of his cock as she secured the latex sheath. A momentary let down over came him as Vic realized he only processed an ordinary cock. He jumped at the slight pinch as Jing rid the reservoir-tip of air. His was not a monument of stone to be worshipped by the peasants, but just another cock, just a commonplace rock-hard cock. 

The Director stood, and took a step back. 

Vic's skin was covered in a sexy cool as the air kissed the wetness she left behind.

Jing took her hand again as she raised herself and slowly took a position over Vic's tense member.

He looked at her, locked in the gaze that came from eyes that glittered as brightly as the bejeweled mask that sheltered them. Then she took him. Slowly, like a snake eating her prey alive. She covered his head and moved slightly, giving an almost unbearable massage to the hypersensitive tip. He witnessed a slight smile at the moan she forced from him. Then she began to lower herself, in infinitesimally tiny increments that threatened to drive Vic insane.

He was holding on by a thread, desiring more and more of the delicious heat and touch her body visited on his over stimulated cock. He fought like a demon to hold off when she worked him with muscles he didn't know existed. She would clamp and unclamp around him pressuring him to break and come before the reward was finished. He fought, clinching his teeth, tossing his head, trying to think of the boring statistics that she often had him research. Oh God! That only made him think of Careena in research, the gorgeous, pouting wet dream on two legs who never picked up on any of his lame come-ons. The memory of all the times that he'd flirted with her, and she responded as if he was speaking a foreign language sent a jolt of embarrassment through him that calmed his raging cock.

The Director was still now. Vic felt the tickle of her pubes against his while she sat on him, his cock hilt-deep in her.

"Jing, assist me."

The Eur-Asian beauty moved behind her Mistress and pressed against her, their faces side by side. Her slender fingers unzipped the shiny leather corset. The Director stopped her, grasping her hand. 

"Not all the way."

Jing stopped, but didn't hesitate to slip her hand inside the opening, stroking, kneading and making the nipples hard and silhouetted against the thin leather.

The Director arched sending a rush along Vic's straining cock. She didn't work him, but rocked slightly as Jing played with her breasts, first one, then the other. While Jing dusted kisses over the Director's neck she seemed lost in the pleasure the other woman was giving her. Slowly she rose, a fraction at first, then more until she rode Vic, rising high off of him to sink to his base.

Vic watched as much as he could in the haze of need and want that plagued him. The two women were beautiful and powerful in their skill and lust. He wanted to see the Director come. He wanted to know that his cock stoked the fires that would consume her. He wanted to see the perfected pleasure mirrored on her face, gasped from her lips before it annihilated him. He wanted to hold out just long enough to say he made the Director come first. Because of this, he tried not to look. He didn't want to see the Director rest against Jing as she tantalized her breasts. He didn't want to see the satisfaction on Jing's face as she aroused her mistress. Each time he looked, however, there was some scene of pure lust between them that threatened to push him over the edge.

"Now." The word came as a breathy moan from the Director. She pumped harder, faster on a cock that had withstood more than Vic ever knew it could survive.

Jing's clever fingers moved to the shiny auburn hairs and parted the waiting lips. Her fingers played the flesh like a harp, strumming and stroking an erotic symphony.

Vic looked at the Director's hidden treasures for the first time. Her dusky jewel was set in glistening folds; the font of her wetness was lush with desire. He wanted to touch her too, tease at her nether lips, and make her close her eyes at the acuteness of his touch. Just as Jing did to her now. He cursed the restraints she'd put on him, the control she demanded. Yet he knew this could not happen any other way. She would never give up so much of herself if the whole game were not played out by her rules.

Jing teased at her nether lips, feathering fingertips along the sensitive rills, making the Director bite her lip and toss her head at the tantalizing touch.

Vic thought he would explode as he watched the two. He would just simply blowup into a million tiny fragments rather than come. He was so beyond any point he had ever experienced before that he was afraid he would never come. He was positive that this was how stars were born, or solar systems or even whole galaxies. Somewhere, some place in the blackness of space some poor bastard was being tortured with pleasure too intense to endure. Somewhere someone was trying to outlast some God of wanton sexuality and failing. Then he explodes and his body, mind and seed is scattered in the universe and his essence sparkles out like diamonds in the night sky and a new dimension is born, all because some guy was kept from coming. _Oh the insanity!_

"It's time," the Director told Jing, her words labored and breathy.

Jing's nimble fingers went toward the pearl, but only one hand. The treasure disappeared from view since her other hand wasn't there to hold the Director open.

He could outlast her, Vic told himself. He could outlast her even though he pulsed like a mad quasar, a nova, and a million exploding suns. He could last just long enough to see God come.

He felt a scratch along his balls, a tickle that made him jump and almost come. The Director was close; she pumped away at him as Jing rhythmically stroked between her legs. The tickle turned into a pressure as his tight balls were lifted. Jing's hand nudged them out of her way. He tensed, not knowing what she was about to do, hoping for one thing and fearing the sadistic creativity of anything else she might try.

Her finger rubbed at him for a moment trying to zero in on the spot. It was what he hoped; she was searching for _his_ pearl. _Not yet,_ he wanted to cry out, not until after he saw God come. The power of speech had left him long ago and he could only moan and writhe as the pleasure surged through his being.

Jing had found his spot. She circled it with her fingertip, teasing, warming his nerves before she lit the fire. He tired to watch the Director while Jing tormented him. He wanted to see the pleasure mirrored on her face, the pleasure he had created. But Jing was pressing on the pearl now, a rhythmic staccato cadence of touches that triggered jolts of sensation that cause him to flinch and arch and close his eyes against the inevitable.

The Director was bent on driving him mad as well. She would pump slowly, then change without warning to furious thrusts that nearly did him in. Just as unexpectedly she would clamp down on him and work up and down his shaft. She would revisit the tip of his cock doing quick little pushes that made her full, round breasts jiggle. Then down again she went to swallow him to the base. It was as if she needed to experience every possibility that their joined bodies contained.

"Give it up." The voice teased at the edge of his fevered consciousness.

"Give it up." The taunting enticement was like a hand on his cock. 

"Give it up." The words threatened to destroy the last shreds of control he had over his body.

"Give it up," Jing urged both of them.

The Director tossed her head wildly trying to fight the bliss that was rapidly overtaking her. Then it happened. She threw back her head, her mouth opening in a silent scream. Shreds of sound interspersed her gasps for air as primal feelings forced their way out of her.

Vic saw it all. It was as if Jing read his mind. Maybe she sensed how important it was to him that he witness that moment of his triumph over her body. Perhaps she knew what it meant to one of the Mistress' subjects to see her being struck down by uncontrollable sensation. It could have been that Jing was so focused on the other woman that she'd forgotten about him. Regardless, she let up enough so that Vic could view the unbelievable sight of his Director writhing in pleasure.

The relief was momentary; a few blinks of the eye, then Jing's pitiless finger's pressed a relentless massage onto that secret spot under his balls.

"Give it up," she coaxed one last time.

He gave it up. He had no choice. The sensation spasmed through his body arching him up, straining at the straps that held him fast to the black leather of the bondage device. Sensation pulsed and surged through him, around him, above and below. He was drowning in pleasure. He was lifted above himself to look down on the lucky bastard who glowed like an expanding sun that dissolved the solar system around him with pure, fiery sexual fulfillment. He was pulled back into his body with a thud as he pumped out his seed. Each lurching chug of cream rippled unbearable pleasure back through every cell. There was not a single tiny space on his body that did not pulse in orgasm. His cock was ground zero but lust scorched his entire being. The apex of this miracle lasted for an eternity. He glowed like the first spark at the birth of the universe. 

For the first time in his life he was ready for the pleasure to end as it began to ebb away. He was panting as he opened his eyes. His sweat glistened above the colors of his magical pelt making him look like he was painted with jewels.

"Was that a good reward?" The Director's voice was breathy, but she was recovering the imperious tone that usually colored her words.

Vic tried to speak, but had to clear his throat before he could even produce a croak. "The best," he finally managed.

She gave a scoffing laugh. "You haven't experienced the best yet." The Director was fully recovered. She threw one leg over him and stepped away.

"We're leaving." She said as she walked toward the door. "Both of you will be in the limo in forty-five minutes." She snagged the large square of black silk that was draped on the corner of the table by the door and paused to wrap it around her waist. She knotted it at the hip and it fell about her, revealing one leg. "Jing, clean him up. I don't want any of that paint on my upholstery." Her hand was on the doorknob, but she stopped once more.

"Victor, did you see God?"

"Better, I saw you."

She opened the door, and was gone.

The End 

* * *

AUTHOR: LeFey  
 **WARNING:** THIS STORY HAS EXPLICIT DEPICTIONS OF HET SEX. IT INCLUDES SCENES OF F/M ORAL SEX AND F/M INTERCOURSE. THERE ARE ALSO SCENES OF F/F SEXUAL ACTIVITY. THIS STORY CONTAINS SCENES OF BONDAGE.   
FANDOM: Once A Thief   
PAIRING: Victor, The Director & other(original character)   
RATING: X, for explicit sexual scenes involving a man and two women.   
STATUS: Complete   
FEEDBACK: Please [email removed]   
DISCLAIMER: They belong to John Woo and Alliance.   
THANKS: To Nicole for Beta.   
SUMMARY: Set pre-Li Ann and Mac. After a successful mission the Director takes Vic to her sex club for a special reward.   
---


End file.
